Chapter Text
The roar of engines tore through Melbourne’s morning air, drowning out the cheers of tens of thousands in the grandstands. For years, the Uma Musume had sprinted gracefully on turf tracks — but today, they were strapped into sleek, high-speed Formula UMA cars, racing on asphalt for the very first Australian Grand Prix.
Tokai Teio gripped her steering wheel with white-knuckled determination. Her pulse raced faster than the engine. Every instinct screamed: push harder. Risk everything. Beside her, Special Week adjusted her helmet, excitement and nerves pushing into her chest.
Their team radio rolled with static before a calm voice echoed out.
“Teio. Spe. Ready? Red Bull doesn’t take slackers.”
Both pressed the radio button simultaneously.
“Yep. All good,” they said in unison.
“We’re ready. Go for glory, mates!”
Ahead, Silence Suzuka’s black-and-cyan Mercedes took pole position, with a set of eyes determined to hang on to the lead with experience. The crowd erupted at the sight of her, a legend already; every move flawless and calculated.
For Tokai Teio, Suzuka wasn’t just a rival. She was the equivalent of Mt. Everest in motorsports. And that’s the standard she needs to achieve for excellence. Her hands tightened on the wheel. This was her mountain to climb, with instinct and skill.
“It’s my time to shine.”
The lights above the track flickered on as Agnes Tachyon’s McLaren MCL39 shook in P3. Her car — so expertly modified that even pundits questioned McLaren’s engineers. Science always wins — or does it?
“Twenty drivers. Ten teams,” Tachyon muttered under her breath.
“We’re up for a challenge, eh, Tachyon?” Jungle Pocket said over McLaren’s team radio.
“Don’t get off breaking this car, Pokke. It costs millions.”
“Oh, well, if you say so. But,” Pokke smirked; her voice dripped with mischief over the radio. “I can’t make any promises.”
Tachyon pinched the bridge of her nose with a gloved hand, fighting the urge to curse her teammate. “For heaven’s sake —”
“Pokke’s going to crash when we reach turn one,” she says, already planning scenarios, and of course — that’s a priority. Nothing out of her calculations should go wrong.
“Don’t worry,” Pokke said over the radio, chuckling as she tinkers with the ERS systems. She starts to adjust the flap for the Drag Reduction System (DRS) to allow for more airflow when enabled.
Tachyon then adjusts her front wing to account for Melbourne’s turns and long straights.
Silence Suzuka’s Mercedes shines, laden with sponsors from around the world. Snapdragon. INEOS. IWC Schaffhausen. She’s got a legacy to prove... and a career to seal. The sunlight glimmers off her rear wing, enlightening the sponsors’ labels.
“McQueen-san. It’s your first time on the track of Formula UMA. How’s it going?”
Mejiro McQueen fidgets with her gloves, stretching her fingers, before replying with a sure tone.
“I’ll be right behind you.”
“That’s the spirit. Good luck out there,” Silence Suzuka gestures to the pit lane, before cracking her neck to handle the power of Formula UMA.
The commentator’s voice echoed throughout the track. Melbourne — the first Grand Prix of the Year.
“Welcome to the Australian Grand Prix!” he announces over the brim of the crowd. Hundreds of cameras pan over the grid. A helicopter above roars, rotor spinning with an insistent static sound.
In P14, Haru Urara’s AlphaTauri F1 car, laden with pink stripes, looks much different than the others. The crowd in the grandstands shouts out her name, and she smiles under the helmet.
“Ready,” she says into her radio, directed at her team engineer.
“Haru, I wish you luck today. The track is unforgiving, to say the least,” Grass Wonder said, right behind her in P15, as she eyes the track, going through a mental figure in her head.
Formula UMA is not for the weak. Strain on the neck. Demanding endurance from 6G forces. The wheels start to grip the asphalt, and sunny skies envelop Melbourne.
Tachyon’s neck presses into the headrest. Narita Brian starts muttering under her breath about ‘strategy’ when all of it is just chaos.
Goldship in P5 is probably going to crash into the back of Jungle Pocket again, and Rice Shower’s gonna take her time. Tachyon is bickering with Pokke, of course, and Manhattan Cafe in P20 is ordering coffee after the race. Oh god. This is not going to end well.
Every Uma Musume starts to set their eyes on what’s in front of them. Years of training have led these rookies to the top of motorsport racing — Formula UMA. Haru’s visor starts fogging up, and she wipes it down.
“U-Uh, what’s the forecast...?” The clouds start rolling in, distant, but right there, and the humidity rises just slightly.
“10 minutes till it rains. A storm’s coming in, so get into the pit lane by Lap 7. No need to add, er... ‘san’.”
Haru’s face lights up. “Rain? Oh, I got this!”
Engines roared; the grid trembled, and tires screeched across the asphalt as the lights went out.
The Australian Grand Prix had begun.